


Dessert Club

by fatale_distraction



Series: Making Bad Decisions: The Ellana Saga [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bisexual Solas, Canon Trans Character, Dry Humping, Fluff, Injury, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Settling a bet via kissing, Smut, Threesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-11-14 08:32:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11204301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatale_distraction/pseuds/fatale_distraction
Summary: WELL.Thanks to a few wonderfully enthusiastic folks on tumblr, this is now A Thing.Frilly cakes, Creme Brulee, and the sweetest, honeybread-obsessed elf you ever did see. Together, they form the Dessert Club, my flagship OT3. Solas knows very well that Cremisius Aclassi has a crush on his precious vhenan. He also knows that the good Lieutenant's feelings aren't entirely reciprocated. He ALSO feels that the Lieutenant isn't half bad-looking himself. The only thing that remains is convincing Krem, who can't fucking stand Solas.What started as a random prompt has spiraled into...what ever this is. I hope you enjoy!*DISCLAIMER*: This fic contains a BISEXUAL SOLAS. If you're not down with that, do not read this fic.





	1. Never Bet With Skinner

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer #1: I am fully aware that Solas' murals in the rotunda are frescoes, which have a completely different and much more complex process than regular painting. I have elected to use a bit of artistic license to completely ignore than for the sake of simplicity.  
> *DISCLAIMER #2*: This fic contains a BISEXUAL SOLAS. If you're not down with that, do not read this fic. Any negative comments made regarding Solas' bisexuality will be deleted immediately and without exception. Constructive criticism is, as always, welcome, but disrespecting people who headcanon 'canonically straight' characters as otherwise is not tolerated here, period, end of story. :)  
> Other than that, please enjoy this ridiculous Elf-and-Krem sandwich.

Drunken betting had never led to anything good for Krem; not once. Get a few dozen mugs of ale in him and he’d run his mouth off and end up in an absurd bet with Skinner. Usually things like “I bet you can’t toss a doughnut onto Bull’s horn” or “I bet you won’t run the barracks in your skivs while it’s snowing”, and memorably “I bet you can’t punch a bear in the face and live.”

  
All he’d come away with was pneumonia, seven stitches and a rather interesting scar on his ass, and four less doughnuts.

 

And this time?

  
He didn’t even rightly recall how it’d started. He vaguely remembered talking about the Inquisitor. Stitches had brought it up, spreading a bit of gossip he’d heard. Rumors that she was engaged in a romantic entanglement with a certain mage. Ah, that was it. Krem had wondered what it was that drew the pretty little Inquisitor to such a dour grump. He was handsome enough if you liked men with no hair, but he couldn’t fathom what his other benefits might be.

  
Skinner had several lewd suggestions regarding the dimensions of certain body parts. “Like a horse I bet.”

  
“Oh, aye. Split ‘er like a log!” Dalish agreed, slapping her knee.

  
Krem had make a disgusted noise, shaking his head to clear that image from his mind.

  
“Well, what do you think it is?” Skinner snarled. There was nothing malicious in it. That was just how she talked.

  
“I really don’t care to think about it, actually.” The Chargers cajoled him and tossed wadded up napkins at him until Krem finally ventured a guess. “Maybe he’s just really good at kissing, I don’t know!”

  
“What a shame there’s no way to find out for certain,” Skinner was smirking. Krem knew that smirk.

  
“No. Absolutely not. I won’t do it. I don’t care how many drinks you get in me there is NO way–”

 

 

And that was how he found himself standing outside the door leading to Solas’ workshop, glaring at it.

  
“Stupid fucking Orlesian elf…” he grumbled before pushing it open.

 

The mage was a few rungs up a ladder on the far wall, a brush and pallet in hand, his hands and clothes speckled with drops of vibrantly colored paints. There was a bit of blue smeared across the curve of one cheekbone and his eyes were narrowed in concentration. Yes, he was fairly handsome, Krem had to admit, albeit grudgingly. He wasn’t convinced that was all it took to catch Ellana’s interest, however. It had to be something else.

  
Regardless, he was now stuck. Bound by the honor of poor decisions. He cleared his throat as he came forward, and Solas glanced at him over his shoulder.

  
“Cremisius,” he said in vague surprise. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” He set his work aside and carefully descended the ladder, wiping his hands on a dirty rag tucked into his belt.

  
Crap. He hadn’t rehearsed this part. His eyes darted around the room, looking for something to pick up on.

  
“Uh. Painting. Nice.” Damnit.

  
A humorous smile twitched at the edges of the elf’s mouth. “Yes, indeed. I thought to record the Inquisitor’s journey for posterity. What better way than upon the walls of her own Keep?” He strolled closer, hands clasped behind his back with a casual air. Krem recalled something his mother once told him, for dealing with customers. 'Never trust a man who hides his hands.’ He pushed the thought away. Solas went on. “Do you have an interest in painting?”

  
“Um. A bit.”

  
The elf beckoned him to a part he hadn’t started on yet. Looking closely, Krem could see faint lines drawn in charcoal, the rough sketch of a scene. “You may assist here, if you wish.” He pulled him closer with strength surprising in a Mage, particularly one so slim. Solas began to explain his vision for the scene, pulling a sheaf of papers from his belt that held more rough sketches to illustrate his points.

  
Fuck it, Krem thought. With practiced skill, he seized Solas by the shoulders and spun the surprised elf to face him before pushing their lips together for a kiss that had many a barmaid melting in Krem’s hands. Solas stood frozen, eyebrows risen so far up his forehead they were practically floating away, lips clamped shut. When Krem pulled away and gave him a judgmental once-over, Solas merely stood there, eyebrows still in orbit.

  
“Why.”

  
“You’re a terrible kisser.”

  
Solas bopped Krem on the head with the rolled up sheaf of papers.

  
“Don’t worry about it,” the mercenary shrugged, eager to make his escape. “Just settlin’ a bet.”

  
Long, thin fingers caught his elbow as he spun away to flee the scene and swung him back around with a force that once again shocked the young man. Krem looked at Solas in surprise. He was…smirking. Shit.

  
“A bet?” He repeated. “What kind of bet, precisely, requires you to assault unwitting elves in their place of work?”

  
“I’d hardly call it assault.”

  
“If that’s what you call a kiss, it can only be either an assault or an insult.”

  
A bark of laughter burst from Krem before he could stop it. “As though you were any better!”

  
“You caught me off guard.” There was a gleam in those frosty grey eyes that was beginning to become unnerving. “If there’s a bet to be settled, I would prefer to be accurately represented.”

  
That said, Solas’ fingers snaked around his neck and yanked Krem down to meet his lips again. Gone was his earlier rigidity, replaced by a soft pull against his bottom lip, then his top, then a flash of teeth. A light gasp left Krem’s mouth open just enough for a slick, hot tongue to slip through and tease at him until he allowed for further exploration. Blunt nails raked at the short, fuzzy hair at the base of his neck and he groaned without meaning to. He could feel Solas smirking against him. Krem felt for a moment like he was drowning in the soft, wet noises their lips made, their tongues tangled together. Solas took a half step forward, a thigh pressed between Krem’s legs until he felt nearly unbalanced, clinging to shockingly powerful shoulders just to stay upright.

  
He was thrown completely off balance when Solas drew away, leaving him stumbling and fumbling like a teenager. Solas wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a satisfied look on his face and turned to take up his brush again. Krem gaped at him.

  
“Now,” the elf sighed. “I hope you’ll excuse me, but I really must get back to work.”

 

He really needed to stop getting drunk with Skinner.


	2. It's (Probably) a Trap!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krem is injured during battle. While Solas cares for his wounds, FUCKS ensue.

The Venatori came upon them without warning. The weary Inquisition party had fought their way inland through the Storm Coast, struggling for hours to gain less than a mile of ground at a time with their destination still days of hard riding away. The Inquisitor hung back toward the middle of their group, practically drifting off in the saddle of her shaggy grey hart, Ser Winston. Solas rode at her side, doing his best to keep her awake, while Krem rode immediately behind them, keeping a sharp eye on the small elven woman. She was perfectly capable of handling herself in a fight, he knew, but she was exhausted and hardly conscious. Of course, he wasn’t much better off, sporting quite a few new bruises and cuts himself, and longing for the comparable relief of his lumpy bedroll.

Before anyone knew what was happening, a clod of earth the size of a Nuggalope blasted across the riverbed and slammed into the Inquisitor’s side with a crackle of magical energy and knocked her clean off of Ser Winston. The massive creature honked, stomping cloven hooves and swinging his horns in anger. A squadron of nearly twenty Tevene insurgents spilled from the surrounding woods and were upon their small party by the time Krem had slid off his tawny bay and darted to the Inquisitor’s side. Solas knelt beside her already, much to Ser Winston’s fury, the hart standing over his mistress in obstinate defense of her. The mercenary immediately put himself between Ellana and an enemy swordsman, slicing him down with a grunt as pain shot up his side thanks to their struggles earlier in the day. A barrier sprung up around them. Solas held his staff steady in one hand, hauling the red-haired young woman to her feet with the other. She clutched her ribs one-handed, teeth gritted against the sharp bite of pain that was likely a fractured bone as she pulled her bow from her shoulder.

“Vhenan, leave this to us,” the apostate was saying, voice tense with urgency and the strain of maintaining his spell. Krem stepped closer to them, staying within the protection of the barrier as the others fought around them, sword still held in a defensive stance should the shield of magic falter or be broken.

The fight carried on around them, lead by Cassandra and Sera, who were doing their best to draw attention away from their Inquisitor. Arrows flew, spells sizzled in the air around them, and metal clashed, joined by the screams of the dying and injured. Solas bent to examine the darkening bruise that was spreading over his lover’s ribs, making an angry noise in the back of his throat at the sight of it. With that much blood leaking under her skin, she wouldn’t be able to pull her bow fully taut, even if the bone was sound. He pressed a cool hand against her side and let as much mana has he could spare flow through his fingers to seal the burst veins and dull the pain.

Krem raised his sword in an instinctive block as a smoldering ball of flame collided with the barrier and fizzled out against its magic. The bluish sphere of energy flickered for a moment but ultimately held. Sweat beaded on the mage’s forehead. His mana was nearly drained after a full day of fighting. They were ill-prepared for an ambush, much less one of such numbers. Solas dropped to his knees again, clinging to his twisted staff for support. Ellana nocked an arrow with a hiss of pain and let fly, but lacked the strength to send it more than a few feet. The arrow stuck into the throat of a charging axeman, but without nearly enough force to be more than an uncomfortable inconvenience for the moment.  Krem finished the brute off with a merciful slice across the neck. Now at least, they were safe, and the man had a clean death, rather than suffering through prolonged blood loss and infection. 

“Get her out of here,” Solas hissed as the barrier around them shuddered. He pushed the weakened Inquisitor toward Cremisius.

“Solas, no,” she protested, reaching out for him even as Krem caught her and drew her into his arms.

“You have the anchor,” the apostate panted. “We need you alive. Safe. The _world_ needs you.”

“Not without you,” she insisted, voice choked and ragged. Ellana turned large, pleading eyes to Krem. “Please don’t make me leave him, Krem… _please_ …”

The dark-haired young man looked between them helplessly. He would do anything to keep the Inquisitor safe and happy, but this choice was…it was impossible. Let her stay with the man she loved at the risk of her own life…or drag her to safety where she would be miserable and likely resent him for it.

“I–Ellana…” his carnelian eyes reflected a pained expression in the lowering light. 

Leaving Solas should have been easy. The elf was smug and pretentious, and Krem still hadn’t forgotten the insufferable glances Solas had sent his way for weeks after their encounter in the atrium. He didn’t hate Solas, but he couldn’t exactly say he was fond of him, either. But Ellana was enamoured with him. It should have been easy to sweep her away and leave the apostate to his fate. Then the Inquisitor would be his to win over, to comfort, to show her how a real man loved; without hiding, completely uninhibited and uncompromising, unlike the stuffy, secretive elf.

And, likely as not, she would never forgive him for it. 

Krem didn’t have the chance to make his decision. Something searing hot exploded through his right shoulder, and he saw stars. Ellana screamed and clutched at him, while Solas pushed to his feet with an angry grimace and darted forward to catch him as his knees buckled. No, it wasn’t hot…it was _cold,_ so cold it burned. Krem lifted a hand to his chest in confusion as he sank to the ground, and his fingers came away bloody, cinnabar against copper. A spear of ice stuck out through his shoulder, as long and thick as his forearm. 

“Shit,” he muttered as the world spun and he stumbled, pitching forward. A pair of strong arms caught him as he fell, and the smell of pine stung his nostrils when the world went dark.

It was fully dark when Krem jerked awake. He lay on his own bedroll, a knit blanket spread over his legs, in a canvas tent lit by a few candles and a swirling orb of gentle, orange light. Solas knelt beside him, with a box of medicine and clean bandages in his lap and a bucket of water at his side. He was wringing pinkish water from a cloth with large, sinewy hands, and focus furrowed his brow. Krem looked down and found that he was striped from the waist up, including his binder, revealing a gaping, bloody hole through his shoulder, the edges ragged and ominously bluish. He’d had worse and lived without baring himself like this, so he yanked the blanket up over his chest with a scowl. The motion caught the attention of Solas, who gently folded a corner back to allow himself access to the wound. 

“Get out,” Krem rasped. “I want Stitches–the Charger’s healer, not you–”

“You need a doctor,” interrupted Solas with a brisk, efficient clip. “And unfortunately, the Chargers did not accompany us on this little venture, so I’m afraid I’m your only option for the moment.” He gave the washcloth another twist and dabbed it in a bowl filled with steaming water thick with floating herbs. He dabbed at the bloody wound with a gentle hand. The water smelled strong, of elfroot, spindleweed, and other potent medicinal herbs, and stung horribly. 

“What happened?” demanded Krem through teeth gritted against the pain. “Where’s Ellana, is she–”

“Reinforcements came from the forward camp,” explained Solas as he worked. “Just Miss Harding and her scouts, but it was enough to turn the tide and push the Venatori back.”

“And El?”

“Safe and healthy, if not entirely happy,” the mage supplied, quirking a lip in amusement at the familiar nickname. “She is asleep. Sera is with her, and Dorian and your Iron Bull are guarding the tent. She was quite distraught over you.” His steely blue eyes locked onto Krem’s face, a significant if unreadable expression on his face; something like curiosity, almost accusatory, but lacking in malice or jealousy. The young Tevene turned his head away, his gut twisting under the other man’s scrutiny. His own feelings for Ellana aside, nothing had ever happened between them…not really. A drunken kiss one night, before the relationship between the Inquisitor and her apostate mage was widely-known. They’d been loitering on the barracks, and he’d pushed her up against the curved, cold wall of a tower and tasted sweet wine on her tongue, felt the warmth of her curves pressed against his body and the scrape of her nails through the velvet stubble at the back of his neck before she’d pushed away, cheeks ablaze and told him. It was a mistake that he had never allowed to be repeated and that he had apologized profusely for. He had that much respect for her, at least. 

While Krem avoided his gaze, Solas packed a poultice over his shoulder with particular care. “She cares for you,” he continued lightly. “A very great deal, it seems.”

“Nothing’s happened,” snapped Krem, bristling.

“There’s no need to be so defensive,” Solas murmured absently, focused on his work, though his lips twitched in another amused smile. “I find it interesting, that’s all. Sit up, please.” He slid a cold hand beneath Krem’s well-muscled back and helped him to rise. The younger man kept the blanket tucked firmly beneath his arms, folding them over his chest with a warning scowl. The elf was entirely unimpressed as he prodded Krem’s right arm until it he lifted it, with some reluctance, to allow enough room for the bandage to be wrapped. Solas wove the sterile cloth in a secure pattern over Krem’s shoulder and arm. “That’s not necessary, you know,” he nodded to the blanket. “I have healed men like you often; you’ll find no judgement from me. There’s no need for such hostility.”

“Doesn’t mean I want you taking my clothes off and looking at my parts, or touching me,” groused Krem, pulling the blanket tighter. “’Specially not while I’m unconscious.”

Solas smirked. “I assure you, my touch can be quite pleasant,” he said lightly. “But if you wish, the next time you are mortally wounded, I will leave you to bleed to death.”

“Arse,” sputtered Krem.

The elf laughed. The sound was deep and rich, rolling through his chest like the gentle beat of a drum. “Well, you weren’t much opposed to my touch that day in Skyhold…”

“We don’t speak of it!” Krem felt his face heat. “It was a bet! And I was drunk. It doesn’t count.”

“So you’ve said,” Solas agreed, still concentrating on wrapping the bandage, keeping it tight and smoothing it with a large palm as he went. Krem made a pointed effort to ignore the way the strong hand made him shiver, stroking him with that firm pressure. “I find myself rather curious, however. What exactly were the terms of this bet? You never did say.”

Krem sucked his lips between his teeth, stormy expression darkening further, sulky and obstinate. “Chargers were trying to figure out what the hell the Inquisitor saw in you,” he grumbled. “Skinner bought me a couple pints, then got me betting. Said I wouldn’t dare kiss you to find out.” 

That drew another good-natured chuckle from Solas. “And you agreed to that?”

Krem gave him a foreboding look. “Never let Skinner buy you drinks.”

“I shall endeavor to avoid her in the future,” the mage promised, adjusting the tension in the linen bandages. “And? Were the results to your satisfaction? Or do you require further demonstration of my romantic abilities?”

The Tevene sputtered, disturbed not only by the implication, but by the devious twinkle in his eyes. “Are you suggesting that I–kiss you?! _Again?!”_

“Not at all,” came the smooth reply. “Unless you wish to. I simply wondered whether the curiosity of your comrades was sated.” He tied off his work securely and tucked away the end of the bandage, letting Krem lower his arm again. The young man winced as the muscle pulled around his wound. When it seemed apparent that he had no intention of answering, Solas went on, tidying his supplies as he spoke. “Ellana certainly found it interesting, at any rate.”

The heat bled away from Krem’s face in a heartbeat, replaced with an ice cold fist clutched around his heart. “Y-you told her…?” he gasped.

“Oh yes,” Solas replied as though it were of no consequence. “It was only fair, after all. She was good enough to inform me of her little adventure with you on the barracks.” His icy grey eyes listed from his work to the horrified expression on Krem’s face, a wolfish grin splitting his lips. “You are quite thorough, aren’t you Cremisius? Both myself and ma vhenan… Oh, but don’t worry. Ellana was perfectly understanding, as was I. She seemed rather curious, in fact.”

“C-curious?”

“Quite,” his grin spread, and his voice dipped low. “She wondered whether you enjoyed yourself.”

“S-she…” Krem stammered, eyes wide, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. “What did you…?” 

Solas leaned closer. Cremisius was nearly of a height with the elf, and much more thick and muscular, but somehow he felt small and insignificant with Solas looming over him with that predatory smile and teasing gleam in his eyes. His muscles tensed defensively. He was certain he could take Solas if he needed to…though take him _how_ exactly, he couldn’t make up his mind.

“I told her exactly what happened,” the other man rumbled dangerous as a coming storm. “I told her how you gasped and moaned when I kissed you.” Krem felt his throat constrict, his breath hitch. He tried to swallow and couldn’t, and an uncomfortable warmth spread down through his chest to coil tight in his stomach. He leaned back on his elbows to put space between them as the mage crept ever closer. “And how readily you responded. The way your lips sought mine, so hungry, so very surprised at just how much you enjoyed it, even thirsted for more. How slick and hot your tongue was as it chased mine so desperately.”

“I-I _never…”_ Solas was practically on top of him now, hands planted on either side of his head, lips hovering just over Krem as his back hit the ground.

“Oh, but you did. You clung to my shoulders and rode yourself upon my thigh.” His breath caressed cheeks that shone like copper from a fine glaze of sweat. “And I told her everything, and I _showed her_ exactly how you kissed me, and she _adored_ you for it.” 

“She…what?” breathed Krem. Their noses bumped. Solas lowered his eyelids, haunting blue orbs still ensnaring the tremulous jasper gaze of the younger man. 

Solas chuckled and ran a slim finger down the sharp, flat plane of his cheekbone. “Oh yes. She encouraged it, in fact. Said that if I enjoyed you so, that I was welcome to seek you out for more.”

Krem’s head spun. His heart beat with a painful pulse in his chest, the heat searing between his legs becoming unbearable and frustrating. Fear warred with lust at the words that dripped from those pale lips like honey. Had Solas truly kissed Ellana as he had kissed him? Had they fucked afterward? Been driven into bed by the reenactment? Solas planted a knee between his legs, driving the image from Krem’s mind and dragging him back to his present predicament. It took everything he had not to grind up against him. Ellana knew they’d kissed. And she’d _liked_ it. She’d given Solas permission to be intimate with him again, _encouraged_ it. 

Most disconcerting of all was that hot, burning knot in his stomach, the one that fluttered when Solas leaned closer, his lips just a breath away from Krem’s, exuding a sexual energy so potent he could feel it crackling through the air, feel it in his lungs and in the tingling of his nerves. 

He wanted this, he realized. He wanted more. He wanted Solas to kiss him until he couldn’t breathe, wanted to feel the hard length of the older man’s body pressed against him. He wanted to fuck himself on that strong thigh, so tantalizingly close, and he wanted to fuck Solas into the ground and watch those stormy eyes roll back in his head as his seed was spent in the dirt beneath them.

“So?” Krem growled deep in his chest, ignoring how he trembled, how his breath hitched in his throat. “Are you going to kiss me, or what?”

Above him, Solas smiled again, then bent to pepper his lips with maddening, gentle kisses. Krem dug his fingers into the elf’s back and pulled him down hard against him, grunting a bit when their shoulders collided. Solas pressed a hand to the bandages covering his wound and pushed a bit of warm healing magic through him. The air prickled pleasantly around them as the pain eased and Solas continued his infuriating, teasing attentions, holding Krem down with strength surprising for such a slim man. The Tevene squirmed, bucked his hips and tried to crush his lips against the other man’s, but Solas was having none of that. 

“I don’t…like…being…bottom!” Krem gritted out, surging up to catch those torturous lips between his teeth. Solas grunted in mingled pain and pleasure and seized just below Krem’s chin with a large, firm hand.

“A shame,” he gasped, returning the bite. Again, Krem writhed, moaning through a hoarse throat. Solas’s tongue slid into his mouth and he met it lash for lash as he fought to flip them both over, fully spiteful of his wound.

Krem was strong. He could lift the massive Iron Bull on his shoulders. He’d once tossed Rocky over a tall barricade like a shot put, and that dwarf was _dense_. He regularly did curls with Dalish and Skinner hanging off his arms, or from either end of a pole while he did clean and jerks. He could easily lift Dalish, Skinner, and Ellana all at once without breaking a sweat, and liked to do it as often as he could, for a variety of reasons. Yet somehow, this one, scrawny mage was effortlessly dominating him. It could have been magic, if his mana weren’t nearly drained dry. Even his healing spell had been weak, more a painkiller than anything. 

“Fucking arse…” he snarled, still putting up a fight.

Solas chuckled and dragged his tongue up the tendons in his throat, urging a strangled cry from the man beneath him. A nibble at the nape of Krem’s neck produced further soft gasps and needy whines, and Solas reveled in those noises as he sucked a dark, plum-colored mark into the copper skin, brushing off the continued, futile attempts Krem made toward dominance. 

“Bastard…” Krem arched up into him, drinking air that smelled of pine and elfroot into his lungs with short, shallow gasps at the friction caused by Solas’ thigh between his legs. He wrapped his knees around it and ground against him again, smirking as Solas hummed in deep approval. He could feel the elf’s erection twitching, pressed hard against his hip. It he could just get a hand free…

He sucked in a hiss of pain, and Solas loosened his grip to send another little jolt of healing magic to Krem’s wounded shoulder. It was all he needed. With a triumphant growl, a hand shot between them and palmed the hardness of the other man’s cock. Solas tensed instinctively, and Krem twisted his hips and legs, rolling them sideways and coming up astride the mage’s hips, the blanket twisted around them both. Krem batted it away with careless impatience.

“Querulous rake,” Solas began, quickly silenced by a light squeeze of Krem’s hand that had his eyelids fluttering and a shuddering groan rising in his chest. Krem gave him a few more firm, slow strokes, enjoying the quiet, almost restful sounds that escaped from between those maddening lips, bitten to a moist, rosy hue. He kissed them hard, swallowing a throaty cry from Solas as his tongue probed the elf’s mouth thoroughly and his teeth snapped sharp and quick to keep the man squirming. Krem could tell he wasn’t even trying to win his dominance back, and frankly, he didn’t care. Krem had won the battle and had his prize; it was enough.

Slim fingers traced the defined muscles of Krem’s abdomen, cool and feather-light. “No further,” Krem commanded with a soft whisper. He didn’t currently have the presence of mind to care that his chest was exposed. As long as Solas kept his hands where they belonged, he couldn’t be pissed to worry about it. The mage hummed his assent into another wet kiss, hands slipping around his middle instead and pulling the younger man down to him, their chests pressed together, the fabric of his tunic pleasantly rough against dark nipples. “That works,” chuckled Krem, kissing his way up the sensitive slope of one slender elven ear. A sharp breath left Solas’ throat and his hips jerked. He groaned loudly when Krem sucked the pointed tip of his ear into his mouth and toyed with it with a slick tongue.

“You’ve had experience pleasuring elves before,” Solas rasped with wry amusement. “Or else you’re simply clever enough to figure us out…”

“Both,” Krem let his lips move against the delicate shell of the other man’s ear. Again, Solas arched into him, the hard line of his cock pulsing against Krem’s stomach, begging to be touched again. Krem shifted further up the elf’s lean body and settled the weight of his hips against the straining member. Solas practically purred at the pressure and warmth, choking on a cry when Krem rolled hard against him with a deep groan of his own. Their lips met again, messier, more desperate. Solas clutched the man’s hips and rocked them together at an angle designed to make him scream, thrusting harder and harder as their tongues tangled, teeth gnashed, and saliva dripped down their chins with each hoarse rasp dragged from Krem’s throat. Their panting breaths mingled, coming faster and harder until Krem was seeing stars beneath his eyelids. “Ah–ah, fuck…” he gasped as he felt himself cresting the ridge of his orgasm. His mouth dropped helplessly open with a prolonged moan, his thighs clamped around Solas’. “Ah…Ellana!” His arms gave out, her name strangled in his raw throat. Solas grunted his own release a moment later, smirking victoriously.

“You want her,” he hissed against Krem’s ear, recovering quickly. “My vhenan, you want her, don’t you?” Krem found himself unable to answer, panting and suddenly terrified, but Solas went on, a rolling growl in his chest, holding the younger man to him tightly, with no room for escape. “You want to fuck her and undo her as you’ve undone me, to devour her screams and her body and her pretty little cunt until she begs to come and cries for you by name.” Thin fingers twisted in dark hair as Krem tried to squirm away. “Do you think of her at night, Cremisius?” He demanded, voice soft and unnervingly gentle. Krem froze, trembling, his eyes widening in horror. “Do you think of her when you’re alone in your bedroll, when you’ve nothing but your own hand for company? Is her name on your lips when you touch yourself, when you imagine the way your name would sound on her lusty tongue?”

Krem stammered wordlessly, cheeks on fire, arousal springing into him again.

“I’ve asked you a question, boy,” the rumble in Solas’ chest reverberated through both their bodies. Krem get out a plaintive moan.

“Yes,” he gasped against the other man’s neck, words tumbling out of him before he could stem their flow. “Yes, I want to fuck her, I want to take her over and over again until she begs for me, until she’s sobbing my name and pleading for release. I want to taste her, drown in her, devour her…”

To his surprise, Solas merely chuckled and ran his fingers through dark, sweaty strands of hair, as though he’d just heard a vaguely humorous anecdote. “Very good,” he whispered. “And the rest? Do you chase your own pleasure at the thought of her? Fucking your own hand and wishing it were hers?”

“Yes,” he choked. “Yes, yes, yes, nearly every night, I want her so badly…”

“Good,” Solas murmured, still stroking his hair. A strange feeling was coming over Krem, as though he were being lulled to sleep by the rhythmic petting, the rise and fall of Solas’ broad chest, the calm beat of his heart. His shoulder was a dull ache in the back of his mind, fading fast along with any fears or embarrassment he might have had. Before he was aware of what was happening, he found himself on his back again, limbs and eyelids heavy. Solas was kneeling over him as he pulled the blanket back over his body and gently tucking it around him. A cool hand touched the wound on Krem’s shoulder, pushing a last bit of healing energy into it, then brushed across his forehead. “Very good, Cremisius. You’ve been a wonderful help to me tonight, but for now, rest.” His voice was gentle and soothing as he smoothed the blanket one last time and began blowing out the candles. “Perhaps when you’ve recovered fully, ma vhenan and I will discuss an…addition to our bed play…”

Krem opened his mouth to respond, with what he wasn’t sure, but the mage swept a hand over his eyes, and he was out.


	3. Terms and Conditions May Apply

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Krem talk about sex, and the Inquisitor gives some damn good head.

“Why?” demanded Cremisius, slapping the palm of his hand flat on the table in the rotunda. They'd been back at Skyhold for nearly two weeks, and the mercenary hadn't been able to get the idea of sharing a bed with Solas and the Inquisitor out of his head. But he couldn't quite shake his trepidation at the thought, either.

Solas looked up from his book with a mild expression. “Why what?”

“Why are you so willing to let me take Ellana?” the younger man pitched his voice to a low whisper, knowing the walls of Skyhold had ears aplenty. Ever since their return, Krem had taken to avoiding both Solas and his dear Ellana as though they were plague-ridden. Of course he wanted nothing more than to take the mage up on his offer, but something seemed wrong. He didn’t trust this hobo apostate, as Dorian called him, not with something like this. Not yet.

Solas only shook his head with a knowing, mischievous smile. “I never said you would be permitted to have her,” he said. “I said we might all three of us share. As to ‘why’...” His shoulders rolled in a careless shrug. “I enjoy making her happy, giving her pleasure. She likes sex. And she likes you.” Grey eyes glinted at him in the candlelight. 

Krem swallowed. “She--you...you’re letting me sleep with her because...she likes doing--the...she likes to--”

A long suffering sigh from a man too polite to outright roll his eyes. “As I said before, you are not going to be sleeping with her. You are going to be sleeping with US, as we are with you,” Solas explained carefully. “As for Ellana...That’s exactly why I am suggesting this. She enjoys your company, she enjoyed your kiss, and she enjoys having intercourse.”

“That’s…” sweat was beading on his brassy forehead. “You shouldn’t say things like that about the Inquisitor.”

Solas snorted. “Why? Does her enjoyment of sex make her a whore?”

“No!”

“Is it so strange then, for a young, healthy woman to have desires and act upon them? For a woman to enjoy the more carnal pleasures of sex with a willing partner? Or partners?”

“I--”

“Surely a mercenary of all people would understand the need and desire for physical release.” Krem did not like the knowing look in his eyes. “I imagine you’ve had your fair share of adventures; tavern girls, dockside whores, perhaps a doe-eyed milkmaid here and there...Dalish and Skinner…”

“Which one of them told you?” he asked with a scowl. Solas simply smiled. “I’ll throttle them both…”

The elf leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled before him. “I suggest you speak to Ellana about this. Come to an understanding with her, then return to me and we can discuss the terms of the arrangement.”

“Terms?” Krem raised a dark eyebrow. “What, like a contract?”

“Of sorts,” agreed Solas with an amused smile. “We’ll need to discuss whether this is one-time only or if we wish to make it a regular activity, what is off limits and what is encouraged...It will be far more enjoyable for everyone if we’re clear about our dislikes and our needs from the start.”

“You’re...really serious about this…”

“Deadly serious.” There was no smile or amused glint this time, and Krem wasn’t sure if that should excite or terrify him. Either way, he couldn’t ignore the surge of heat the stony expression sent jolting through his body, or the sudden moisture seeping through his smalls as he turned to leave.

 

* * *

 

  
  


They met in a secluded corner of the library, Ellana sequestered in an out of the way nook with a thick volume of Dalish legends and myths. It was late enough that even Dorian had gone to bed, Solas had packed his plaster and paints away and retired, and their spymistress had swept off into the night. Krem, wearing little more than a plain, rust-colored tunic, soft breeches, and a pair of worn leather boots, approached her with caution.

“El?”

She glanced up in surprise, but smiled at him and scooted further into the corner, making room for him on the padded bench next to her. Even with her shoulder pressed against the paneled wall, there wasn’t enough room for Krem to sit without their thighs touching, and when she leaned forward to converse, he could feel her breath on his neck, smell the fragrant soaps and oils from her hair, practically taste the flavorful tea on her lips. 

He cleared his throat and began again. “Um...I wanted to talk to you...about Solas.”

The girl nodded. “I thought you might want to discuss things…” She gave him a shy little smile. “He told me about...well. He said you seemed to enjoy yourself.”

“I...I never meant to--I mean, he said you...you encouraged it?”

Ellana bobbed her head again. “Yes. After I confessed to him about our...our kiss on the battlements, he became very interested in you. I think at first he just wanted to know why I was attracted to you, and then...well, then you kissed him.”

“And he liked that?”

“He said you could be a fantastic rake with a bit of practice and some finess.”

Krem snorted. “Of course he did.”

“I don’t think you’re a rake,” Ellana said with a demure, downcast smile. 

“Oh?” Krem leaned forward, their noses brushing, and ran a dark hand up the curve of her thigh. “I could be, if you like.”

Her eyes met his beneath her thick eyelashes. “I think I would,” she breathed. 

In one motion, he cupped her cheeks in his hands and locked their lips together, longing tongue probing into her eager mouth. He pulled her into his lap, spreading her legs to straddle his thighs and held her tightly to him until their burning cores were pressed together. Her fingers dug into his hair, and his into the soft, ample flesh of her thighs. Their kiss deepened further until they were practically melded together, hips moving together in gentle rolling motions until Ellana was gasping openly against Krem’s lips, moist with their mixed saliva. A harsh upward thrust had her moaning loud, her head rolling back.

“Krem,” she whispered in a high-pitched whine. “Oh, yes...again, please…”

He acquiesced gladly, jerking up against her center and drawing another deliciously wanton moan from her straining throat. Ellana’s slim fingers curled against his scalp and guided him forward to cradle his head against her breasts. Krem let his cheek rest there, teasing the soft skin with ghost-like little kisses. 

“He told me you like it…” he whispered with just the barest hint of a feral growl. “Solas. He said that’s why he was willing to do this...because you like to be fucked.” 

Ellana’s teeth came down on her lower lip, a smile curving her lips. “Yes...I adore bedplay...Sometimes I like to be fucked. Sometimes I like to do the fucking. Sometimes I just want to lay together with every bit of skin touching, or kiss and writhe together beneath the sheets until I’m breathless and covered in sweat.” Each addition was punctuated by a roll of their hips together, and a noisy, wet kiss. “Does it bother you?”

Krem chuckled. “Absolutely not.” Another long, moist kiss. “My only concern is Solas. What does he get from this?”

It was Ellana’s turn to laugh. “He gets to fuck two people he’s attracted to, then watch them fuck each other. He gets to watch my face when your mouth is between my legs, and mine around his cock. He gets to hold us both while the two of you fuck me senseless, to hear us screaming each other’s names and his along with them. And when we’re all nice and sweaty and exhausted, he gets two soft bodies to warm him while he drifts off.” As she spoke, she slipped down out of his lap, soft skirts pooling around her with a whisper of linen as she kneeled before him and her fingers plucked at the lacing of his breeches. 

His insides seemed to flip upside down, seeing her there between his thighs, nimble little fingers pulling leather cord free and peeling the tight leathers down. Krem let his mouth drop open and a hiss of air escaped his lungs as she tugged his smalls down as well. The short bench creaked as he shifted his hips upward until his clothes were around his ankles, the dark, hard muscles of his thighs exposed to the cool, candlelit night. Pale hands skimmed up his legs, rosy pink lips following the same path to the pooling wetness matting the thick black curls at his apex. 

“El…” a hoarse gasp rattled in his throat. “Please…”

“Yes?” she asked with an innocent tilt to her head, violet eyes shining with mischief in the darkened library, silent but for the hiss and pop of flickering torches. She ran idle fingers through the coarse hair, fluttering down to tease at moist folds and the swollen, hardening bud of his cock.

Krem’s teeth tore at his bottom lip, fists tightening at his sides with his knuckles pressed to the wood beneath him. “S-suck my cock...please…” he gritted out, then tossed his head back with a throaty cry when her mouth closed over him and sucked hard.

Ellana let him slip back out of her mouth with a silken wet pop, then turned more delicate attentions to the fiery bud; small, gentle strokes of her tongue circling the root and teasing the tip where it peeked from beneath its hood, her fingers holding dripping petals apart as she worked. Every few strokes she would drop a dainty kiss to the bundle of nerves and suckle at him a bit before returning to the light, tender touches of her tongue. Krem’s chest heaved, drawing short, ragged breaths into his lungs and his fingers clawed at the wooden bench as the pressure in his core tightened and radiated heat throughout him. The young man kept up a constant stream of swears, whispered under his breath, though he felt Ellana’s lips twitch into a smile against him so surely she must have heard. The strokes of her tongue turned broader, more forceful until she was lapping at him in a long wet line that flicked up over his cock and had his hips jolting upward with each repetition.

“Sweet fucking Maker, Ellana,” he gasped, one hand moving to bury his fingers in her hair. 

Another groan swept through him when her mouth closed over him once again, and pulled. Her head began to bob with a gentle, shallow motion that had his eyes rolling back in his head and his thighs shaking uncontrollably. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked at him and continued bobbing her head over him, making delicious little noises in her throat as she did. Another slow lick had Krem panting out loud, his fingers digging into her hair and urging her on. “Suck me again…” he said in an authoritative rasp. “Suck me harder with those pretty lips…”

He felt completely ridiculous saying such a thing, but a delighted moan reverberated against him as Ellana complied with enthusiasm, rolling her tongue over him as she took him back into her mouth, sucking and pulling and flicking the little bundle of heat inside her mouth until Krem came with a scream and a jerk that nearly unseated him. She kept her mouth over him, her hands stroking his stomach and thighs in a soothing motion while he rode his orgasm out against her, his fists still twisted in her long red hair. 

“Fuck,” he gasped. “Shit. Maker, Ellana…”

She giggled with a shy, but proud expression as she wiped her dripping chin. “Solas says I have ‘the most deliciously sinful mouth’.”

“He’s right,” Krem said, still panting. 

“So?” Ellana raised her eyebrows hopefully at Krem. “Will you be joining us?”

His answer was to snatch her up into his lap and capture her in a breathless kiss, swiping his tongue over her lips and tasting himself there. “Yes...Yes, Maker, yes. I want to taste every bit of you…” he murmured into their kiss. “I want to make you scream and watch you get fucked into the mattress while I ride that beautiful face…”

She giggled, cupping his cheeks in her hands and rubbing their noses together. “I can’t wait…” she whispered. “Solas will arrange a time for us. A few hours where we’ll be completely undisturbed. But for now…” Ellana’s voice trailed off as her fingers skimmed down the side of his neck. Krem arched into the touch with a light sigh. 

“Don’t leave just yet,” he begged when she stirred from his lap, holding her by the hips. “Please, I want more of you…” Krem nestled his head against her stomach, wrapped his arms around her middle and held her gently.

The Inquisitor pressed a kiss to the top of his head and ran her fingers through his short, dark hair. “You’ll have to wait, I’m afraid…Solas will want to have a discussion about your boundaries first. It’s important to both of us that you feel comfortable and safe with us.” She tilted his chin up to meet her eyes. “I promise, the wait will be worth it.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

 

“I see you’ve spoken with our dear Inquisitor,” Solas was practically grinning when Cremisius visited him the next morning. 

Krem scowled, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to conceal the blush that rose in his cheeks. “You could say that,” he dodged, hurling himself into a chair Solas had pulled up across the desk from his own. “Now about that...contract…?”

The older man unrolled a blank parchment in front of him, then nibbled a bit at the tip of his pen before dipping it into the inkwell, an action that drew Krem’s focus uncomfortably to soft lips and blunt teeth. “More like an agreement. You needn’t sign anything, and these notes are more for the benefit of memory than anything else. Now,” he leaned forward with an interested smile. “Let’s talk about what you like, to start with.”

Krem thought, shifting in his seat with an awkward shuffle. “I like...El…”

“Yes, I believe that has been established.”

He scowled again. “I like it when she sucks me off in the library, is that better?”

“It’s a start,” Solas chuckled, jotting something down. “Anything else? Or is oral sex where you draw the line?”

This time, Krem snorted, a derisive noise. “Hardly,” he challenged. “Ropes. I like to be tied up, and I also like doing the tying. I like spanking a girl’s arse until it’s red and shiny and she’s begging for my fingers inside her. I like biting and being bitten--”

Laughing, Solas held a large hand up to halt the stream of obscene acts flowing from Krem’s lips in excruciating detail. “Alright, alright. Why don’t we narrow it down to what you don’t like? What, for instance, am I forbidden from?”

The Tevinter didn’t have to think long on that. “Don’t touch my chest. At all. And you’re not to cum anywhere near me. Not inside me, not on my chest, nor my stomach, nor my face. Your cock stays the fuck away from my mouth or my cunt unless I specifically ask for it.” He took a breath, watching as Solas scribbled all this down with a scholarly, indifferent expression. “You can fuck me in the arse if you like, but other than that, fingers and mouth only.”

“Is that all?” the mage asked after a brief pause. At a nod from Krem, he continued. “And what of Ellana?”

A breath stuck in Krem’s throat. “Anything…” he whispered hotly. “She can do anything she likes. If I don’t like it, I’ll stop her...I just want to feel her all over me…” His eyelids fluttered at the mere thought of her writhing around on top of him, gasping and smiling and biting those rosebud lips of hers.

A deep chuckle interrupted his daydream. “Well, I think we’ll be able to manage that quite well. Ellana is quite enthused about this arrangement. Ropes, you said…” Solas fiddled with the pen between his fingers with a thoughtful expression. “I think I have just the thing in mind…”

Krem shifted in his chair, supremely uncomfortable with the predatory gleam in the mage’s eyes, for a number of reasons. The least of which was the flood of moisture in his smalls at that look. “Keep yourself available. Ellana and I will work out a time that suits our collective schedules and let you know when you may join us.”

With that, their meeting was apparently over. Solas rolled up his notes and began working on something else as though they hadn’t just been discussing Krem’s sexual preferences in horrifyingly precise detail. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please comment with any concerns or unintelligible screaming you may have, and remember that while constructive criticism is always welcomed, bisexual erasure is NOT! :) You can also send your unintelligible screamings to me at fatale-distraction.tumblr.com


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